An Innocent Misunderstanding
by princessozmaofoz
Summary: James thinks that he's found the perfect way to get Robbie and Laura together. Jean is skeptical, but she agrees to play along. And thus begins the most unorthodox match-making scheme in the history of Oxford. RL/LH and JI/JH friendship. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Dr Laura Hobson looked down at her watch, wondering when the food was going to come. The chief constable had spoken for over an hour-and-a-half and showed no signs of slowing down. The man quite simply loved to hear himself talk, and Hobson knew that this lengthy oration was the entire reason that the party had been planned.

Laura glanced around and noticed that several of her workmates had already fallen victim to the chief constable's somniferous voice. Approximately half of the party guests were sleeping: some peacefully and others fitfully, but all blissfully unaware of their superior officer's droning. Those who were not asleep were distracted in other ways: talking animatedly to their companions or text-messaging under the table. Hathaway was one of the latter group, his fingers dancing across the keys of his mobile as expertly as a concert pianist's as he typed out message after message. Laura absently wondered with whom the sergeant was conversing. Then she noticed that at another table, Adrian Kershaw was mouthing a "Nice one, James" in Hathaway's direction.

Alone of the people in the room, Innocent was still staring at the chief constable, but even her eyes were glassy, suggesting that—at the moment—the chief superintendent was far more concerned about the fact that she hadn't had her dinner than about the fact that the Oxfordshire Police had just apprehended several dangerous criminals.

Hobson turned her head slightly to make a comment to the man sitting beside her before she realized that Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis was among those who had succumbed to their exhaustion. Laura sighed, wondering when her considerable boredom was going to end.

Fortunately, she did not have to wait long. The chief constable eventually realized that he had lost his audience and abruptly ended his speech. He then instructed the servers to bring in the food. Aware that Lewis was probably as hungry as the rest of them, Hobson lightly shook her dozing companion until he awoke.

"Thanks," Robbie said as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Anytime," Laura said, smiling. She wanted to add that she would be there anytime, anyplace, and in any capacity that Robbie Lewis needed her, but she knew that it was a bad idea.

"Were you having a pleasant dream?" she asked.

"Actually, I was."

"What was it about?"

Lewis said nothing but turned a slight shade of pink. Then the servers arrived, bearing baskets of bread, and plates of turkey, green beans, and mashed potatoes. Robbie's eyes lit up at the arrival of the food, and Hobson realized that pressing Lewis about his dream was futile; she'd never get her answer while Robbie had food in front of him.

Lewis ate with great gusto, shovelling forkful after forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth as though they might disappear soon. If it had been anyone else, Laura might've been disgusted. But it wasn't just anyone—it was Robbie, who somehow managed to make an enormous appetite the most endearing thing on the face of the earth. Laura chewed her green beans thoughtfully until Hathaway ended his correspondence with Kershaw and returned his attention to his dining companions.

"_That _was the single most boring speech in the history of the universe!" the sergeant said emphatically as he cut his slice of turkey into smaller pieces.

"Stop talking like you're an expert. You weren't here for Strange's Christmas address of '91," Lewis replied.

"True," Hathaway said as he took a roll out of the breadbasket and began to butter it, "but I _did_ have to put up with Father Flynn's sermons every Sunday while I was at the seminary. Now, _that _man could drone! But even Father Flynn looks like Winston-bloody-Churchill next to our chief constable."

"You have _such_ a charming turn of phrase, Sergeant," said a sarcastic voice. Hobson, Hathaway, and Lewis turned their heads to observe DCS Jean Innocent, standing behind them and looking—in Hobson's opinion—far more attractive in a teal cocktail dress than a woman of her age had a right to expect. "I'll pretend I didn't hear the derogatory comment about my immediate superior," Innocent continued.

"Please do. If you _were_ to tell, he'd only start another lecture." Hathaway pompously puffed out his chest and gave a passable impression of the chief constable's nasal tones. "Junior officers should be seen and not heard."

Robbie and Laura laughed outright, and even Jean cracked a smile. "Just keep your own advice in mind when the chief constable makes his rounds," Innocent said. "I don't want to have to put you back in uniform for your cheek."

"Yes,_ please_ behave, James. A uniform would do absolutely nothing for your flawless complexion," Laura added, batting her eyes coquettishly at the sergeant.

Laura snuck a look at Robbie to check his reaction. She knew that her flirting with Hathaway made the inspector feel uncomfortable, but she did it anyway—in the hope of someday making Lewis jealous. It had yet to work, and Laura strongly suspected that the reason for that was the woman standing behind them.

"Anyway, to what do we owe the pleasure of _your_ company, ma'am?" Lewis inquired, turning his attention to the chief superintendent.

"The chief constable asked me to bring him a roll. Apparently, the servers forgot to deliver a bread basket to our table."

Robbie's eyes twinkled merrily up at her. "Couldn't the chief constable get the roll for himself?"

"Just between us, Inspector, our 'Fearless Leader' has a bit of a penchant for ordering junior officers about."

"At least, we now know that _you _get it honestly," Hathaway muttered under his breath. Hobson laughed.

"What was that, Sergeant?" Innocent asked, shooting a withering glance in Hathaway's direction.

"I…er…" James stammered.

"That's what I _thought_ you said," the chief superintendent replied brusquely. She addressed Lewis again. "The other reason that I came to get the roll is that I was hoping to pick up another for myself."

"Here, you can take my bread-plate, Jean," Hobson interjected. "I'm _trying_ to limit my bread intake; carbohydrates are _so _fattening."

It took a moment for the pathologist's meaning to sink in. Hobson knew that the chief superintendent—like any woman—was quite sensitive about her figure. Laura supposed that it was a bit cruel of herself to torture Jean in this way, but she didn't care. She hated Innocent—if only because the chief superintendent was intelligent, pretty, well-dressed, and a few months younger than Hobson herself.

"Not that _either_ of you need to worry about your weight," said Hathaway, determined to dissolve the current tension.

"Thank you, James," Innocent said, pleasantly.

But it was clear that Laura's words had had an impact on her. When she picked up Hobson's bread plate, she grabbed only one roll from the basket. Then she took her leave of them. Robbie sat up in his chair and watched the chief super go back to her seat, the slightly dazed expression on his face leaving little doubt in Hobson's mind that the inspector's earlier "pleasant dream" had been about his female superior officer.

Then, Lewis turned his attention to Hobson. "I realize that you women are always worrying about staying trim, but you should think about making an exception. This bread is fantastic! Not as good as me mum's but… still, excellent."

Laura smiled. Robbie really had no idea just how adorable he was: encouraging her to eat and complimenting his mother's cooking.

" Alright, I'll try one," Hobson said, taking a roll out of the basket and placing it on her dinner plate—since her bread plate was long gone. She broke the bread and placed a small piece in her mouth.

"Well?" Lewis asked once she'd finished chewing.

"Delicious—just as you said."

"You should know by now that I'd never steer you wrong, Laura."

"I do _know_."

And she_ did. _Robbie had been more than a colleague for several years now; he'd been a trusted confidante and her closest friend. And he'd been more than that as well. Hobson knew that she was in love with him. There was no reason to deny it anymore, save the most obvious reason of all—that her affections were unreturned. And yet, somehow, Laura refused to give up hope. Deep down in her heart, Dr Laura Hobson was totally convinced that she and DI Robbie Lewis were soul mates. If only he wasn't so obviously interested in Jean!

_Ten Minutes Later_

Robbie Lewis snuck a look at the woman beside him. He wondered vaguely if Laura knew what a pretty smile she had. He wished he had the courage to tell her.

Laura's smile was far from the only thing that Lewis liked about her. She was so smart, witty, attractive, and funny. But of course, Lewis could never tell Laura any of this; he wasn't willing to risk their friendship—seeing that it was clear she didn't feel the same way.

Instead he had to content himself with the relationship that they currently had. He knew that he was extraordinarily lucky to have a friend like Laura. How many other people would have woken him up after he'd embarrassingly fallen asleep during the chief constable's speech? Even Hathaway had been far too concerned with continuing a text-message conversation to think of lending a helping hand to his inspector.

Robbie had felt his cheeks flush when Hobson had inquired about his dream. He hoped that the pathologist hadn't been able to work out that it was she that he'd been dreaming about. That would've ruined everything.

He glanced back at Laura again. Hobson was fully engrossed in a story that Hathaway was telling about his seminary days. She kept laughing and placing her hand on Hathaway's arm whenever the sergeant said something particularly hilarious. Lewis was aware of a strange feeling rising in him and instinctively knew that it was envy. He suddenly wished that he were young and tall and blond and charming so that Laura might laugh at his jokes the way she laughed at James's. Robbie stared back down at his plate and moved his food around with his fork.

Once he'd realized that he didn't stand a chance with Laura, Lewis had tried to forget his feelings for her. All of his attempts had failed miserably. In spite of everything, DI Robbie Lewis was still convinced that he and Dr Laura Hobson were soul mates. If only she wasn't so obviously interested in James!

"James, could I have a quick word?" said a new voice.

Robbie looked up and saw that the chief super had re-joined them. He barely spared her a second glance. Lewis knew that most of the men at the station—young and old, eligible and not-so- eligible alike—were half-mad with lust for Innocent, but Lewis himself had never felt any real attraction to her. He supposed that the chief superintendent _was _fairly pretty—as women went. Certainly, she was much easier on the eyes than her predecessor had been, and she smelled like orchids, a welcome change from Strange's oh-so-enticing fragrance of prune juice and tobacco. Yet, Innocent's many charms had never had much of an impact on Lewis; he was far too enamoured of Laura to think of another woman—particularly one who was married and his boss.

As Innocent and James left the table, Robbie noticed Laura was staring at Jean with an expression of pure loathing.

What was that about?

_Five Minutes Later_

"So, why exactly _do_ you need to speak to me?" Hathaway asked Innocent as they began their third turn about the room. "If it's to lecture me on my earlier cheek, I can only warn you that I probably won't listen."

"Actually, I _don't _need to speak to you at all. I just thought that if we left _them,_" Innocent gestured at Lewis and Hobson, "alone for long enough, they might act upon their obvious attraction to each other."

James looked at the chief superintendent for a moment, astounded that she had been perceptive enough to pick up on Laura's and Robbie's concealed feelings.

Innocent must have sensed his surprise for she let out a brief, mocking laugh. "Oh please! Do you think I'm _blind_? It's completely obvious to everyone."

"Except them," Hathaway pointed out.

"True. It's a pity, though. They would be a very sweet couple."

"Yes they would be, but leaving them alone isn't going to get them together. Believe me, I've tried that approach several times, and it's never worked."

"What on Earth is keeping them apart?"

Hathaway had never expressed his theory before, but as Innocent seemed willing to listen, he decided to share his opinion. "Oddly enough, I think it's _us._"

"Us?" the chief superintendent inquired. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Whenever Dr Hobson compliments me, Inspector Lewis sulks for the next hour."

"So Lewis thinks that you and Dr Hobson…?"

"Apparently so."

"Are you?"

"Of course not!" he said, genuinely upset until he glanced over at Jean and realized that she had been teasing.

The two slowed their pace for a moment before Innocent spoke again.

"So where exactly do _I_ fit into this theory?"

"Well," Hathaway hesitated, unsure of how to put this in a way that would not completely offend Jean. "Have you ever noticed that whenever you enter a room, Laura looks as though she wants to throw something?"

"I _have_ noticed, now that you mention it. So, Hobson thinks I'm out to ensnare Lewis—does she? I suppose the fact that I'm _married_ counts for absolutely nothing."

Hathaway smiled wryly. "It might count for a bit more if Mr Innocent played a more active role in your life. People are beginning to doubt of his existence."

"So am I," Innocent muttered absently, sighing and staring off blankly into space for a moment. Then she looked back at Hathaway, and seemed to revive some of her high spirits. "You know, James. It's too bad that _we're_ not a couple; _that _might scare Lewis and Hobson into getting together."

She had meant it as a joke, but she then noticed Hathaway was staring at her as though he had never seen her before. She rushed to clarify.

"James," Innocent said carefully. "You _do_ know I'm not serious—don't you? You _understand_ that I'm married, your superior officer, and roughly ten years your senior?"

"Of course, I do ma'am. It's just… you've given me a very interesting idea. A very interesting idea that just _might_ solve Lewis's and Hobson's problem."

"Are you going to share this 'very interesting idea'?"

"Yes…er…no… I mean… yes,_ eventually._ But not here. I _am_ going to need your help to pull this off. But we're going to need a more secluded place to discuss…"

"I can grant you a private audience in my office tomorrow morning."

"Perfect. Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome, James. I'm interested to see what you have in mind."

The two parted ways and returned to their seats to enjoy the rest of their meal.


	2. Day One

Day One

"So I must confess, James. You've gotten me very curious. What is this brilliant idea that requires so much secrecy?" DCS Jean Innocent said, folding her hands on her desk and addressing the man sitting across from her.

"Well, _you_ were actually the one who gave me the idea… when you talked about our being a couple potentially pushing Lewis and Hobson together…"

Innocent leaned back in her chair. "I thought we were clear on the fact that I was joking."

"We _are_, ma'am. But it still got me thinking. What if Robbie and Laura _believed _that we were together?"

"What are you saying?"

Hathaway took a deep breath before sharing his scandalous idea. "I'm saying that we fake an affair."

She stared at him as though he had three heads. "_Fake an affair_?" Innocent repeated, just to ensure that she had heard him properly.

"Yes, ma'am." James paused for a moment. "Well, what do you think?"

Privately, she thought that he had lost his mind, but she wanted to let him down gently. "I'm not convinced."

"Really? _I_ thought that it was a fairly good idea."

Innocent finally decided that complete honesty would be the only way to dissuade James. "How could you possibly think that _that_ is a good idea? You _do_ realize that your little 'fake affair' would prove detrimental to both of our careers and to my _marriage_—don't you, Sergeant?"

"Not necessarily. We would have to be very careful, but I think we can pull it off without any lasting damage to either of our careers or to your relationship with Mr Innocent."

"What do you mean?"

"We'd only act 'in love' when we're around Lewis or Hobson. If anyone else is present, we'd behave with each other as we normally do."

The chief superintendent drummed her manicured fingers on the top of her desk as she tried to think of something that would thwart James's new plan. Hathaway knew that she'd be unsuccessful; he'd given this idea a great deal of thought and was sure that he'd come up with a solution to every possible problem.

"What if Robbie or Laura reports us?" Innocent said finally, the smug smile on her face suggesting that she honestly believed that she had stumped Hathaway.

She was wrong. "They _won't_ report us, ma'am. I'm sure of it. You know that Inspector Lewis cares too much about both of us to risk putting us in harm's way."

"And what of Dr Hobson? She's made it very clear that she despises me."

"But she adores _me._ She may dislike you, but she'd never sacrifice one of her best friends just to malign her romantic rival."

"_Never_ underestimate a woman in love, James," the chief superintendent replied darkly.

"You can't honestly tell me that you believe that _Laura Hobson_ would do something like that?"

"I suppose you're right," Innocent said. She fiddled with her earring for a moment as she tried to collect her thoughts. "Alright, let's _assume_ that we're able to pull this off without getting sacked. How will this help Lewis and Hobson find each other?"

"As I've said before, _we're _the biggest obstacles to their relationship. If we make it clear that neither of us is interested in either of them, then each of them will want to comfort the other in their perceived heartbreak."

"I think that you're wasting your talents as a policeman, James," Innocent said finally. "You could've made a fortune writing for _daytime television_! I mean… sure, it's a fairly interesting _idea_, but it's clear that it would never actually work."

"Want to bet?"

Curious in spite of herself, Innocent gestured for the sergeant to continue.

"Let's give a try, starting right now. If you're right … if Lewis and Hobson aren't together in a week, counting today, I'll…I'll make that speech for you."

Hathaway could almost see the wheels turning in Innocent's head, and knew that the chief superintendent was seriously considering his idea. Last week, the chief constable had told Innocent to choose one of her subordinates to deliver an address to the recent graduates of the police academy. The chief constable had specifically requested a young officer—someone the new policemen and policewomen would find easy to relate to. Therefore, Innocent had approached Hathaway who had proceeded to laugh in her face. Furthermore, James knew that Innocent had failed to find anyone else so far. Inspector Kenneth had a very bad stuttering problem, DS Laughton would be at her sister's wedding in Scotland on the day of the speech, and Constable Collins could barely spell his own name—much less write a convincing speech. All of Innocent's subsequent attempts to persuade Hathaway to change his mind had also proved unsuccessful, and the chief super was starting to get very frustrated.

She looked at him intensely. "You_ really _think that this will work—don't you?"

"You know that I do." James continued. "Mind, you'll have to give this your best effort. I won't let you sabotage my hard work just so you can win the bet."

"You don't have to worry about_ my_ acting, James," Innocent said, tossing her head majestically. "I once played the title role in an amateur production of _Evita_."

He studied her with new interest. "_Evita? _That's Stephen Sondheim —isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes "You have the audacity to call yourself a musician! It's Andrew Lloyd Webber; _everyone_ knows that."

"It's still a _musical_, though_—_right_?_" Hathaway asked, trying very hard to suppress a laugh.

"The _layman_ might call it that, but technically it's a 'rock opera," Innocent replied haughtily.

"So if you played the lead in a… rock opera… that must mean…"

"That I can sing? Yes, Sergeant, I can. If you're going to ask why I haven't serenaded you yet, I just don't feel that it's very… _professional_ to sing in an office—particularly in our line of work."

"Yeah, I suppose all the dead bodies don't exactly scream 'jazz hands'—do they? Unless of course, you're doing _Sweeney Todd._"

"Not even then, James."

They sat in silence for a moment before Innocent returned the subject to its original topic."Now if I agree to participate in this little charade and you _somehow _end up winning the bet, what do you want from me? Keep in mind that anything that rightfully belongs to Mr Innocent is off-limits."

Hathaway could feel his cheeks flaming. "Ma'am… surely you don't think that I… I mean, I would never…"

"No, Sergeant, I _don't_ think that. But I had to be sure. Remember—you just asked me to participate in a fake _affair_ with you. I had to make sure that we properly understand each other's intentions."

"We _do_ understand each other." Hathaway removed his badge from his pocket and placed his hand upon it. "I, Sergeant James Hathaway of the Oxfordshire Police, do solemnly swear that my intentions for this endeavour are entirely honourable, and that in no way will I take advantage of any delicate circumstances in which I may find myself. Should I break this vow, I am no longer fit to keep this badge that I so treasure, and hereby grant Jean Innocent the authority to punish me in any way that she sees fit, no matter how humiliating and degrading it may be."

Satisfied with this humbling profession of integrity, the chief superintendent spoke again. "So, exactly what _do_ you want in exchange?"

"I'd like an extra day's sick leave and …"

"And?" Innocent protested.

"_And_ I want to hear you sing. Just once… to see what I'm missing."

Innocent considered his request for a moment. She really_ did_ need someone to make that speech for her. And there was another compensation as well.

When she was a little girl, Jean had dreamed of someday being a professional actress. Common sense had eventually cured her fantasies of making Academy Award acceptance speeches to millions of adoring fans, but in spite of everything, Jean Innocent still harboured a secret desire to be the toast of West End and Broadway. She hadn't acted in over fifteen years, but she had once been told that she was very good. Was she _still_ good? Could she _really _pull off this most challenging of roles that she'd ever been offered? It was worth a try at least.

"Done," Innocent said finally.

She held out her hand, and they shook on the bargain. Then, Hathaway rose from his seat. A thought struck him as he turned to go. "Wait a minute. Seeing as we're going though with this false affair, I presume that I now have the right to call you by your Christian name?"

The chief superintendent scowled at him. It was extremely forward of Hathaway to even think of asking, and Innocent was quite sure that—given permission to call his superior officer by her first name—Hathaway would abuse the privilege to excess. However, abiding by the sergeant's suggestion _would_ make the whole matter seem more plausible to the intended targets. Lewis and Hobson would never believe that their friends were lovers if Innocent didn't let Hathaway initiate such subtle signs of intimacy. Besides, if she didn't let James get his way, Jean was quite sure that he would come up with some sort of vile pet name—which would be even worse.

"I suppose it does," she admitted. "But only while we're playing your little game. Don't make a habit of it."

"I won't… _Jean_." He grinned impishly at her.

"Don't you have work that you should be getting back to?" she snapped, rising to her feet and placing her hands on her hips.

"Unfortunately, I do." Hathaway's voice took on the histrionic tones of a Shakespearean actor as he gave an elaborate bow. "Fare thee well, fair Jean: rose of Oxford, crown jewel of chief superintendents, and—as of today—paramour to this most _unworthy _of sergeants."

He then took his leave of her. Innocent watched him go, a reluctant smile on her face. Detective Sergeant James Hathaway may have been arrogant, cocky, facetious, impulsive, and a notorious flirt, but he wasn't without charm.


	3. Day Two

Day Two

"So we think there may be a connection between Tchaikovsky and our friend Mr. Madsen," DI Robbie Lewis said, his gaze darting equally between his two companions.

Innocent, who was perched precariously on top of Hathaway's desk, eyed the inspector curiously. "Which would be?"

"Madsen's mother was Russian, and according to family legend, one of her ancestors was in the original production of _Swan Lake_," Hathaway stated.

"So, have the two of you started exploring this theory yet?"

"Not yet. We've been so busy checking alibis that we haven't really had the time." Lewis said.

"Inspector Lewis and I will, however, be going to the library tomorrow on our lunch break for some additional research."

"I see," Innocent said simply.

"You should really think about joining us there, ma'am. We could really use your…_keen insights_," Hathaway added.

"I'll consider it. If you _really _think that you could use me…"

"I really think that I could," Hathaway said, poking the chief super sharply while Lewis's attention was temporarily diverted by the file on his desk.

Innocent immediately (and painfully) picked up on Hathaway's hint "Well, then, I guess I'll _have_ to come along then."

"Alright, I'll give you a call tonight telling you where and when to meet us."

The chief superintendent got up off the desk and started walking toward the door, but Hathaway's voice stopped her.

"Wait! Don't go yet! I haven't given you your birthday present."

Robbie's eyes darted to the others curiously. _Birthday present? What was that about?_ Lewis had always been under the impression that policy strongly discouraged the exchange of gifts between junior and senior officers.

Innocent walked back over to them.

"My birthday's not until next month, James. Don't you remember?"

"Of course, I remember. February 24—isn't it?"

The chief super nodded as Lewis scratched his head in confusion. As far as he was aware, Innocent had never shared her birth date with_ him_—so why would his sergeant suddenly be privy to such details?

"I'm sorry, Jean. I should have waited for your real birthday, but I just couldn't wait any longer."

Robbie watched in bewilderment as James reached into his pocket and withdrew a small package wrapped in shimmering blue-grey paper with an enormous silver bow perched on top. Innocent took the present and began to carefully unwrap it, eventually revealing a black velvet box—the kind that usually held jewelry. Innocent gently lifted the lid of the box, and her face broke out into a dazzling smile.

"Oh, James, it's _beautiful_," Innocent gushed. She gazed up at the much-taller sergeant from beneath long lashes. "Will you fasten it around my neck? I always have trouble with clasps."

"Of course, I will," Hathaway said, taking the box from her and removing his gift from its case.

James's present was an ornate heart pendant, made of what looked very much like real silver and hanging from a delicate chain of the same colour. Lewis stared it, utterly transfixed. It was admittedly verybeautiful—_and_ a very personal gift for someone to give his boss. What on earth was Hathaway playing at? Was he attempting to kiss up to Innocent to make up for something he'd done? What _had_ he done that required such an expensive penance? As far as Lewis was aware, Hathaway had been on his very best behavior for months. What was more—Hathaway obviously hadn't bothered to consider Mr. Innocent's reaction. Robbie knew that James had a bit of an impulsive streak, but this seemed extreme even for him.

Hathaway undid the clasp of the necklace and fastened it around his superior officer's neck, the silver heart falling perfectly within the v-neck of Innocent's deep violet sweater. Then, things got very odd. Before Lewis's astonished eyes, Hathaway began to lightly stroke the superintendent's skin with his fingers of his right hand. He started up underneath her ear and then traveled slowly up and down her throat, his hand eventually coming to rest in a place just underneath Innocent's neck.

Lewis stood flabbergasted at Innocent's passive acceptance of the sergeant's brazen actions. In fact, it almost seemed that the chief superintendent approved of what Hathaway was doing. She had closed her eyes, and the expression on her face suggested contentment—not alarm. Lewis wondered for a second if he had made a premature judgment in assuming that James had done all of this to atone for something. What Robbie currently witnessing seemed to imply that Hathaway had something other than his professional reputation in mind.

Lewis suddenly remembered that he'd caught James staring at Jean's arse the other day, when the chief super had bent down to pick up some papers she'd dropped. Lewis had laughed this off at the time; it was a natural-enough male reaction. Anyway, Hathaway was a far cry from Dr. Cook who undressed the chief superintendent with his eyes whenever she entered the room—and not in a strictly medical way!

Still, Robbie was starting to become very disturbed at what he was currently witnessing. The inspector gave a very convincing false cough to remind Hathaway and Innocent that they were not alone. The cough worked its magic. Hathaway took a few steps away from Innocent and removed his hand from the chief super's neck.

"Thank you again, James," Innocent said, turning to face the sergeant.

"You're welcome. It… it …looks wonderful on you."

She smiled and then left the room.

Robbie looked confusedly from the place where the chief super had been a moment ago to the place where James was still standing.

"What is it, sir?" the sergeant asked.

Lewis shook himself. The scandalous conclusions that his brain were currently drawing simply couldn't be right. There _was_ an explanation. There just had to be.

"Nothing, James. Nothing at all."

_Three Hours Later_

"I want to congratulate you on a West-End worthy performance today, James." Innocent said as Hathaway entered her office.

"You were pretty convincing, yourself. Where on earth did you get the idea for the necklace?"

The chief superintendent lovingly fingered the silver heart that still hung from her neck.

"Mr. Innocent gave this to me the Christmas before we were married. Unfortunately, I misplaced it shortly after I came to Oxford. It was missing for years, but the cleaning woman found it behind an old dresser yesterday. I just figured that—since I hadn't worn it at work yet—we could use it to play with Lewis's mind a bit."

"It was a brilliant idea! I really think that we've set the stage well."

"As do I." Innocent paused. "So, is there anything else you need to speak to me about, James? You specifically requested this meeting, if I recall correctly."

"Well, there are two things, really. One: we need to talk about tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"You're meeting me and Lewis at the library—remember?"

"Ah, yes so that we can do 'research,'" Innocent said, making "air quotes" with her fingers. "I assume that you have a plan of some sort."

Hathaway grinned mischievously "Of _some_ sort, yeah."

"I shudder to think. What's the other thing you wanted to talk about?"

"Well, I was just thinking. We need a story."

"A story?"

"Every relationship has a history behind it. It will be much easier for us if we have background to fall back on."

Innocent smiled sarcastically. "You _want_ a story, Sergeant? I'll give you a story. We met at work…obviously. We were both frustrated by a very difficult case. The media had made us out to be a force of arrogant, incompetent buffoons—something they _often_ do when I let someone as unprincipled and reckless as you handle a case. So, one night, the two of us were feeling really distressed and therefore had a bit too much to drink…and well, here we are."

Hathaway wasn't impressed. "Well, I suppose it has potential, but I was sort of hoping for something a little more… original."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well… how about this? Inspector Lewis and I had just finished up a very important case. We had done so _brilliantly _that you simply had to congratulate us in person. Unfortunately, Lewis had to leave early to go to a dentist appointment, so… it was just the two of us… alone… here in your office. After you'd finished singing my praises in your rich, melodious mezzo-soprano voice—a voice that I'm very much looking forward to hearing by the way…"

She smirked. "I'll _bet_ you are, sergeant, but you're not going to be hearing it anytime soon."

"_Au contraire,_ my dear Jean. I hope you've been practicing your scales. Anyway… after you'd finished lauding my genius, you unlocked the bottom-right door of your desk and took out the bottle of vodka that you had confiscated from DS Wiggins—had _confiscated_ but had not turned in. We drank deeply, toasting life, love, and happiness. The alcohol made you a bit unsteady on your feet, and you landed in my strong, virile arms where I was able to hold you very close indeed. I all-but-drowned in your perfume, and you found yourself just as powerless to resist _me_. Soon, our intense feelings got to be too much for either of us to handle so we moved all of the papers off of your desk, and there consummated our undying love in a beautiful, breathless moment of unbridled passion."

He glanced up and noticed that Innocent, her eyes wide with disgust and horror, had risen to her feet and had moved as far away from both him and the offensive desk as she possibly could. Jean's reaction gave Hathaway a perverse satisfaction. Innocent would now think twice before calling him "unprincipled and reckless."

"I'm only kidding, ma'am," he said after an extremely long and tense silence. "We should probably stick with your story."

She nodded, but he could tell that she was not entirely reassured. She crossed her arms and studied him thoughtfully.

"You know, sergeant. You worry me."

"Do I?"

"Just a _bit_, yeah."

They sat there awkwardly until Hathaway chuckled a bit.

"What is it?" Innocent asked after a moment, a trifle concerned as she considered what had likely prompted this response.

"It's just… I was thinking of the fun the two of us are going to have messing with Lewis at the library tomorrow."

Relieved that James wasn't currently envisioning the two of them caught in another "beautiful, breathless moment of unbridled passion," Innocent spoke again. "Yes, you were going to tell me about your plan."

Hathaway proceeded to do just that.


	4. Day Three

**Note: ****This chapter owes an extra debt of gratitude to Carole King whose brilliant lyrics I have manipulated into my story.**

Day Three

DI Robbie Lewis opened yet another thick tome about Tchaikovsky. Maybe this book would hold the answers that he needed or…

'_Maybe not,'_ he thought as he looked down at the page.

Beside him, Dr. Laura Hobson was taking very detailed notes on a pad of paper. Hobson, having nothing better to do, had decided to help Lewis and Hathaway with their research.

"Find anything interesting?" Robbie asked, peering over Laura's shoulder to look down at her notes. He tried very hard to ignore the fact that she smelled like vanilla, but it was a very distracting thought.

"Oh, I've found plenty that's_ interesting_; I just haven't found anything that I think will be of particular help to you."

At another table, Hathaway slammed shut an enormous encyclopedia volume.

"Bad luck, James?" Hobson remarked.

"That's the understatement of the year."

"Well, maybe now that I'm here, your luck will change a bit," said a new voice.

"I think it already has," Hathaway said, grinning broadly and walking over to Innocent.

Robbie had almost forgotten that James had invited the chief superintendent to join them, but there Jean Innocent stood now, still wearing the heart pendant that Hathaway had given her yesterday.

"What is _she_ doing here?" Laura asked, rising to her feet and eying the new arrival with mistrust.

"She's here to help us," James replied.

Hobson said nothing but gave a little "humph" of disapproval. Meanwhile, Innocent placed her coat and purse on the table and sat down beside Hathaway. Maybe it was just Robbie's over-active imagination, but the two of them looked awfully cozy. The chief superintendent's brown head and the sergeant's blond one were bent very close together as they flipped through one of the books.

Lewis suddenly remembered the very strange encounter that he'd witnessed between them yesterday. He continued to watch them, hoping he'd see something that would ultimately disprove the ridiculous theory that his brain had formulated.

A lock of hair had removed itself from Innocent's barrette, and it suddenly fell in front of her eyes. Hathaway carefully smoothed the wayward strand behind the chief super's ear. Robbie was surprised at how intimate the sergeant made such a small gesture seem. Then, he looked down at the floor and noticed Hathaway's foot kept brushing against Innocent's under the table.

Lewis nudged Hobson. "Er… Laura?"

"Yes?"

"Do you notice anything… odd about the pair of them?" he said, indicating Hathaway and Innocent.

Hobson glanced briefly at their companions. "No. Nothing other than the fact that Jean's here in the first place."

That was an excellent point. Why _was_ Innocent here? He had initially assumed that the chief super had come to help with research, but looking back at James and Jean, it didn't appear that they were getting much research done—at least _not _of the variety that one usually accomplishes at a library.

"Maybe, it's just me, Laura, but I've been getting this feeling that there's something…funny going on between them."

"Well, there's only one thing for you to do about that then—isn't there?"

"What's that?" he asked, completely unsure of the answer.

"What you do best."

"Laura!" he proclaimed in mock horror. "You should know by now that food isn't permitted in a _library_!"

She gave him a playful punch on the arm. "I meant _investigate_, you numbskull. Although, you _are _admittedly very good at eating."

"Lewis!" Innocent suddenly called from the other table.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"James and I are going to … look for more books."

_'Looking for more books, eh? Is __**that**__ what they're calling it these days?' _

"Alright, then."

Innocent and Hathaway set off.

"Well, here's your chance," Dr. Hobson said to Lewis. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Robbie said and he followed James and Jean.

_Two Minutes Later_

"You're _sure _that he's coming?"

"Of course. We've played our parts far too well for him to ignore them. Besides, Robbie has an insatiable curiosity; it's what makes him such a brilliant inspector."

They waited in silence until they heard footsteps that sounded as though they came from the shelf behind them.

"That must be him," James whispered. "Good luck."

"You too," Jean replied.

Then Hathaway spoke loudly enough for Lewis to hear them.

"It makes me so happy to see you wearing the necklace. It suits you to perfection."

"Thank you. I love it; I really do. I never want to take it off."

"Well, you _do_ know that I'll have to take it off of you tonight…along with all of your other things?" Hathaway tried to make this line sound as suggestive as possible, but was initially unsure of his performance. He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him and realized that he'd—at least—been able to persuade Lewis.

"I don't mind. It will be even better to have your _real_ heart pressed against me," the chief superintendent purred.

Innocent didn't have any trouble sounding convincing. Just as she'd claimed, she was a sensational actress. Unfortunately for Hathaway, the chief super was also a firm believer in 'method acting.' As Innocent talked about Hathaway's heart, she spread her fingers across his chest. It made the whole experience horribly uncomfortable for Hathaway. Not that it was an _unpleasant _sensation exactly. Quite the contrary, in fact. No, James was just very glad that he knew that this was a game. He had a sneaking suspicion that if Jean Innocent ever tried to seduce him for real, he'd have a very hard time resisting her.

Hathaway let her continue to touch him for a moment and then pushed her hand off. She proceeded to seize him by the tie, pulling his face very close to hers. Her breath tickled his neck, and her perfume made him feel somewhat dizzy. For a terrible moment, Sergeant James Hathaway felt a very strong desire to… to… He wasn't exactly sure he _knew_ what he wanted. But, he strongly suspected that Mr. Innocent would disapprove of whatever it was.

'_Pull yourself together, James. You've just gotten a little too into character. Besides, you know that Jean's just playing with your head a bit—the same way that you're both playing with Robbie's.' _

"What's the matter, James? Do I make you _nervous?" _Innocent whispered softly in Hathaway's ear.

"Very much so," he said honestly.

"Good. Now you understand how uncomfortable _I_ felt yesterday when you talked about our 'beautiful, breathless moment of unbridled passion.'"

They stared each other down for a moment before she released her hold on him. Then, they resumed the conversation that they'd staged for Lewis.

"I'm so glad that you're still coming over. Are you sure that you won't be missed at home?"

"Quite sure. Mr. Innocent will be out of town for the next two days."

They waited for Robbie to make the connection.

"Good, I simply can't bear the thought of sharing you, Jean. Tonight, you're mine completely, giving your love so sweetly."

'_Stick with the script, James. __**You**__ wrote the blasted thing, so stop ad-libbing! It's really starting to get on my bloody nerves.'_

Ever since Hathaway had found out about Innocent's singing, he had picked up the annoying habit of quoting lyrics at her as a way of reminding her of the stakes of their bet. As if she could have forgotten! Jean looked up and saw that Hathaway was gesturing for her to finish the song. She scowled at him.

'No_, James Hathaway. The light of love will __**not**__ be in my eyes tonight, and I certainly won't still love you tomorrow, as I don't even love you __**today**__!'_

"Why so silent, my love? Is something troubling you?"

_'Yes, my love. __**You **__are troubling me.'_

Then_, _Innocent reluctantly said her line. She particularly hated the next part of their little scene. It made her feel like some sort of cheap trollop.

"It's just… I've been so stressed lately. It's really started to weigh down on me."

"You work too hard, Jean; it's unhealthy. You need to relax. Tell you what, why don't you let me give you a full-body massage tonight? It will be good for you, and well…it will be _fun_ for me."

He certainly made it seem as though he would enjoy such a task. For a moment, Jean wondered for a moment if he was being serious or just a damned fine actor.

_'It's just a game,'_ she told herself to assuage her fears. _'He swore on his badge that he wouldn't touch you, and you trust him. You agreed to this; you were the one who wanted to practice your acting. So, __**act**__, Jean, act!'_

Innocent heard a loud thump as though the person hiding in the bookshelf behind them had just dropped an enormous stack of books. She mentally praised Robbie for his impeccable timing.

"Did you hear that?"

"I didn't hear anything. It must be your vivid imagination," James said, grinning wickedly at her.

_'__**My **__vivid imagination? Calling the kettle black, aren't we, James?' _Innocent thought bitterly. Then she said her real line aloud.

"Since you provided the wine last time, might I bring it tonight?"

"Absolutely not! You're already providing me with the greatest gift of all: your lovely self."

Innocent fought a very strong temptation to gag at the sergeant's sappy words. Did Hathaway _honestly _believe that such sentimental hogwash worked in real relationships? No wonder he'd never been able to hold down a girlfriend for more than a few months at a time!

"It's no trouble. We have a full wine cellar. One bottle won't be missed."

"No, it's just… I feel that I've already stolen too much from Mr. Innocent."

They heard footsteps walking away. It seemed that Lewis had finally heard enough. Thank God! Hathaway had originally scripted additional dialogue, but neither he nor Jean was totally sure that they'd be able to will themselves through the rest of the scene. The unspoken lines made the part about the full-body massage sound almost _chaste_!

_That Evening…_

Inspector Robbie Lewis sat on his sofa and tried to focus on the puzzle in front of him. He'd started attempting the crosswords shortly after Morse's death; it was a simple yet appropriate way to remember the inspector who had meant so much to Robbie.

Tonight, however, he found himself unable to concentrate. His mind kept replaying the horrible conversation that he'd overheard in the library earlier that day.

Right now, Hathaway and Innocent were at James's flat doing… _heaven-knew-what_. Maybe James was just now taking off Jean's heart pendant… or maybe, he'd already started to administer the full-body massage. A series of disturbing images, all featuring Lewis's sergeant and his chief super, flashed through the inspector's mind.

Lewis wasn't sure who he blamed more. He suspected that Innocent—as the married woman and the senior officer—was technically the most at fault. But hadn't Hathaway once thought of becoming a priest? The sergeant had certainly fallen from grace, abandoning his personal morals and professional responsibilities for pleasures of the flesh.

No, both James _and _Jean should have known better. They were equally guilty in Robbie's book.

Lewis knew that chief constable and Mr. Innocent each deserved the truth about what was transpiring under their noses. However, Robbie hadn't figured out how to share what he'd learned without completely destroying James's and Jean's careers.

Moreover, Lewis had always heard that Mr. Innocent had a very violent temper. Robbie was very close to Hathaway and would no more place the sergeant in such hot water than he would his own son. And despite the chief superintendent's icy exterior, Lewis genuinely cared about her too. The thought of what the chief constable and Mr. Innocent would do to Jean was only slightly less unsettling than the thought of what they'd do to James.

So, Lewis had decided to keep his mouth shut, hoping the whole problem would just go away soon. Besides, what could he have said anyway? He imagined the conversations.

_'I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir. I understand that you're very busy, but I thought you should know that my sergeant is screwing our chief superintendent!'_

_ 'No, we've never met, Sir, but I work with your wife. I'm calling to inform you that your pretty little Jean is not nearly as 'innocent' as her marriage vows require her to be.'_

Of course, there _was _always the possibility that Lewis was simply blowing things out of proportion, the possibility that he'd misinterpreted what he'd heard.

Well, there was a fairly easy way to test this theory.

Lewis sat aside his crossword puzzle and took his mobile off of the end table. He turned it on and began flipping through the numbers in his directory. The question remained: James or Jean?

_'Jean,'_ he finally decided. She was far more likely to pick up. Not even the fires of intense lust would be able to keep Jean Innocent from doing her job!

He dialed the number, placed the phone up to his ear, and waited.

_Elsewhere in Oxford…_

Detective Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent rose from the couch and turned off the television. She tried to imagine her workmates' reactions if they learned how obsessively their chief super followed _The X-Factor. _ James would probably have a field day, if he knew.

The _real _travesty, however, was not that Innocent watched the show; it was that every week, the pint-sized Welshman with the squeaky tenor voice came back to butcher another classic song. Innocent was a bit self-conscious about her own singing, but she had full-confidence that she was infinitely more talented than that scrawny little upstart who somehow managed to garner thousands of votes.

Jean picked up the newspaper beside her and flipped to the article that had caught her attention earlier. It was definitely one of the more flattering articles that appeared about her in the papers—and yet it was far from perfect. They'd misspelled her name—not once, not twice, but three times.

She wondered vaguely if any of her colleagues scrutinized the paper closely enough to notice these typos. She fervently hoped not. She had a very strong suspicion that—if Sergeant Hathaway had read the article—people would be calling her 'Joan Innacent' for a very long time.

She tossed the paper aside and prepared to walk up the stairs to bed. She stopped when she heard her mobile ringing. She picked the phone up, laughing when she noticed the name on her caller id. She could have some _real_ fun with this.


	5. Day Four

Day Four

Detective Sergeant James Hathaway was fairly confident in the success of yesterday's experiment. Last night, Inspector Lewis had even called him to "check in." James had taken full advantage of the opportunity to fan the flames of Lewis's imagination still further. Hathaway had pretended that Innocent was in the house with him, giving his fake visitor directions to the bathroom while he was talking to Lewis, and telling the inspector that he had something that something that he really, _really _wanted to get back to.

Afterward, he had phoned Jean and was ecstatic to learn that she had already had a similar conversation with Robbie. So far, everything was going according to plan. It was only a matter of time before Lewis attempted to comfort Laura through Hathaway's "betrayal."

Hathaway entered the office, whistling contently as he walked over to his desk.

"Good morning, sir," he said cheerily to Lewis, who was already seated at his own desk.

"Good morning, James," Robbie said tiredly.

"Did you have a nice evening?"

"Not really. I didn't sleep well."

"Why?"

"I received a bit of unfortunate news, and it kept me up a bit."

James had a feeling that he knew exactly what Lewis's "unfortunate news" was. The sergeant mentally patted himself on the back for a job well-done.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry about that, sir. Do you want to talk about it?"

Lewis looked embarrassed. "I…er…no…not really. What about you? Did you have a good night?"

Hathaway leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself.

"I had a _super_ night."

And so he had—just _not_ in the way that he wanted Lewis to imagine. James looked over at Robbie who seemed to have caught the innuendo.

"James?" Lewis began carefully.

"Yes?"

"I know that you like to live on the edge a bit… so I just want to warn you… for your own good…"

"Warn me about what?"

" … To warn you, not to do anything …" Lewis's eyes narrowed menacingly, "_Or _any_**one**_ …. that might get you sacked."

"What?" James asked.

"You heard me!" Lewis said, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "I don't want you to put yourself in a precarious position. You can't afford another scandal… and neither can _Innocent._"

Hathaway tried to conceal his delight. Unless he was misinterpreting this, Lewis had just warned his sergeant to stay away from the chief superintendent

"Alright, I'll try but I can't promise anything."

They sat in silence for a time. Then, Robbie employed a different approach.

"You know, James. I've been thinking. You need a girlfriend… and Lyn has this old school friend who still lives in Oxford…"

"What's her name?"

"Karen. She's a professional masseuse. You enjoy _massages_—don't you, James?"

James was almost crying from the laughter that he was currently restraining "Yeah, I do. Although, I think I prefer _giving_ them to getting them."

"Well, maybe you and Karen can compare styles. You'd like Karen, mate; I really think that you would. She's got a great personality—funny, carefree, bubbly. She's nice-looking too: long legs, great smile, and wavy red hair."

"A redhead? No, thank you!"

"What's wrong with redheads?"

"Well, there's nothing _wrong _with them exactly. It's just I prefer blondes and brunettes. Besides, I'm…kind of in a relationship right now."

"With a blonde or with a brunette?"

"A brunette," Hathaway said, not even bothering to conceal his broad grin any longer.

Lewis seemed to make the connection right away and continued his attempt to discourage the sergeant's affair with their superior officer. "As you know, James, I was married to a brunette for several wonderful years so I know the challenges they present. Yes, brunettes are fun and smart and very sexy, but they can _also_ be a handful at times. I'm just not sure that you're up to the challenge of handling one."

"Oh, believe me, sir. I am _definitely_ up to the challenge."

" What challenge?" Innocent said as she unexpectedly popped her head in.

"I… er… nothing important, ma'am," Lewis answered stiffly, forcing a smile.

Innocent walked over to them. "I see. Did you have a nice evening, Robbie?"

"It was alright, I guess. Could have been worse, but it surely could have been better."

"What about you, James?" the chief super asked.

"I had a _wonderful_ night," Hathaway said, winking obviously at Jean. "And you?"

"I had an excellent night as well," Innocent replied.

"What a strange coincidence!" Hathaway remarked in a manner that indicated the belief that it was no coincidence at all.

"So, what are you doing here, ma'am?" Lewis asked.

"I just wanted to stop by and make sure that everything is running smoothly," Innocent replied, raising a quizzical eyebrow at James.

"Everything is going _according to plan_," Hathaway responded.

"Keep up the good work, then. James, might I have a quick word?"

Hathaway followed the chief superintendent out of the room and back to Innocent's office. Once they'd arrived, Jean shut the door and Hathaway slouched down in a chair.

"So, Lewis has fallen into our little trap—has he?"

"He certainly has," Hathaway responded.

"So can we tone down the action a bit?"

Innocent was very much hoping that this would be the case; she was starting to get very tired of the game, especially as she had come to suspect that Hathaway was enjoying his role a bit too much.

"Not exactly." He continued_,_ smiling wickedly at her as he did so. "Please forgive me if I seem naïve; I would never want to force your hand, but please understand…"

He looked at her briefly to see if she recognized the lyric. Hathaway had watched the film version of _Evita _last night for this purpose alone. He had been surprised at how easily he could picture the chief superintendent in the role of Argentina's former first lady and could see how the part might have appealed to her. Like Jean Innocent, Eva Duarte Peron was a ruthless, ambitious, intelligent, seductive, and proud woman. Of course "Evita"—at least as played by Madonna—also had a marvelous singing voice, and Hathaway was as of now uncertain if Innocent shared this talent.

She obviously caught the reference for her already–prominent scowl deepened. "Of all the songs from _Evita_, you _would _pickthat one to quote! No, sergeant, I would _not _be 'surprisingly good for you,' nor would you be for me. This affair is _fake—_don't you forget it!"

"Oh, I didn't mean _that._ It's just we have a marvelous opportunity to further our deception tomorrow, and I think that we should take advantage of it."

"What happens tomorrow?"

"Performance reviews—remember? You've scheduled Lewis's evaluation just after mine. I don't know about you, but I think we might be able to make something of that!"

Innocent sighed dismally. She should have known that James wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily.


	6. Day Five

Day Five

"So…about my performance review?" DS James Hathaway asked his chief superintendent as they gathered in her office the following afternoon.

"Your performance was… satisfactory." Innocent replied, handing him a completed evaluation sheet

"Satisfactory!" Hathaway cried indignantly as he took the piece of paper and stared at it. "Lewis and I solved the Beckett case—a case that would have taken most teams weeks to untangle—in three bloody days!"

"Yes, but that was _after_ you'd already harassed one of the most powerful men in Oxford _and_ played your guitar while questioning witnesses!"

"The witness in question was a fellow musician, and he _asked_ to hear me play," James pointed out. "Besides," he added callously, "I thought you were a _proponent_ of the arts, 'Evita!'"

"Not when they make a mockery of our noble profession. I'll presume that _you _didn't see the headlines in the papers the next morning, but _I _did. They were nightmare-inducing. I particularly enjoyed the one titled 'Troubadour Cop Serenades Suspects; Oxford's Chief Super Has Clearly Lost Her Marbles.'"

"Ah, but you eventually _found _your marbles so 'all's well that ends well."

Innocent rolled her eyes in disgust. "You're still lucky that I didn't suspend you for that."

"Luck had nothing to do with it, my dear little 'Joan Innacent'—only _love._ You simply couldn't bear the thought of hurting your favourite," Hathaway teased.

"Don't flatter yourself. The only reason that I _didn't_ punish you further is that Inspector Lewis implored on his hands and knees that I show you clemency."

That was news to James. Lewis hadn't mentioned any plans to speak to Innocent on Hathaway's behalf.

"So," James said after he'd mentally resolved to buy Robbie chocolates to thank him, "my overall work performance was merely…_ tolerable_?"

"Satisfactory," the chief superintendent corrected, pointing at the sheet still in Hathaway's hand.

"What's the difference?"

"'Satisfactory' is a step above 'tolerable' and a step below 'good.'"

Hathaway contemplated this for a moment. "Would it be horribly cheeky of me to ask how much better I'd have to be to get a 'good' rating?"

"It _would_ be horribly cheeky of you to ask. However, as I consider myself a very magnanimous person, I'll tell you anyway." Innocent leaned forward over her desk to give Hathaway an especially intimidating stare. "You would have to _swear_ to never put another toe out of line, and you would have to _abide_ by that vow."

"I see," Hathaway replied interestedly. "Just out of curiosity, what's after 'good'?"

"'Great.' I'm not even going to even bother telling you how to obtain that—as there's no chance you could ever receive it. And you'd have to be a bloody _angel_ to ever obtain an 'excellent' rating!"

Hathaway shot her a playful grin. "I think I _can_ achieve an excellent someday. After all, I did study theology so I figure I'm already halfway to Heaven."

"You seem to be forgetting the fact that you're now embroiled in a false affair with your _boss_!"

"Oh, I _haven't_ forgotten. Speaking of which, shouldn't we start setting up the next phase of our plan?"

Innocent scowled. "I suppose so."

"Alright, so exactly how _does_ one fake a scandalous office rendezvous?"

"I would have thought you'd have given this more thought, James," the chief super said mockingly. "It was after all, _your_ idea in the first place."

"I was kind…of… busy last night. So anyway, what do _you _think that we should do?"

Innocent studied Hathaway appraisingly. "You should probably loosen your tie … and maybe muss your hair a bit."

The sergeant set down the unsatisfying evaluation sheet and proceeded to do as he was told. The chief superintendent, meanwhile, returned to her desk and began rummaging through her handbag. A moment later, Innocent returned to Hathaway's side, a spray bottle of pale pink fluid in her hand.

"Close your eyes," she instructed.

Hathaway did so, wondering what Jean was about to do next. James then felt a few droplets of liquid brush against his neck. He opened his mouth in protest, but then found himself choking on the fumes from the bottle.

"What _was_ that?" Hathaway asked when he'd finally stopped coughing. He kept his eyes closed as he wasn't sure it was safe to open them yet.

"My perfume. I just figured that if Lewis were to walk by…"

"…He would smell you on me."

"Well, yes. I thought that dousing you with the bottle was much safer than letting you acquire the scent 'the old-fashioned way.'"

Hathaway nodded, still keeping his eyes clamped shut. "I just wish you had thought to ask me first. I don't relish the thought of smelling like orchids—although they do suit _you_ extraordinarily well."

Although Hathaway couldn't physically see her anger, he could hear it quite plainly. "Sometimes one needs to make sacrifices for the greater good. Do you think I_enjoyed_ our little scene at the library?" She mimicked him cruelly "'Oh, _Jean_, I want you; I _need_ you. Please let me caress your beautiful, bare body.'"

"It was in the script!" he pointed out through clenched teeth.

"Script or no script, it was sexual harassment. You were extremely fortunate that I didn't clock you for that!"

"You know I wasn't serious, and it fooled Lewis, so why are you complaining?" Hathaway said. "Besides, this is completely different. I can't spend the rest of the day smelling like a bloody _flower_!"

"Oh, man up, James! You only have a few hours of work left, and then you can go home and shower it off."

"Alright," he said, sighing dramatically. "I'll do it for Lewis."

"You can go ahead and open your eyes, by the way."

He did so and noticed that Innocent had unfastened the first three buttons of her blouse.

"Ma'am, I… I…" Hathaway stammered, not at all sure how he felt about this turn of events.

Innocent noticed that he was staring at her chest and promptly folded her arms across it.

"Remember our agreement, sergeant. This is all an illusion for Lewis's benefit. I'm not going to undress any further—regardless of how much you may cajole me to so. There's no need for you to get 'excited.'"

"I'm afraid it would take a bit more than that to get me 'excited,' ma'am."

"That's a relief," the chief superintendent said. "Although, I'm a little disappointed to learn that you find me so distasteful."

"Oh, it's not _you_ that I find distasteful at all; it's the idea of a demotion. Believe me, ma'am, were you not married, my superior officer, and roughly ten years my senior, I'd have absolutely _no _qualms about turning this fake affair into a real one."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Innocent replied. She pulled Hathaway's face to hers and briefly pressed her lips to his cheek before taking several steps away from him.

Extremely confused, Hathaway reached up to touch the spot where she'd kissed him. His fingers came back slightly pinker and slicker than before.

'_Lipstick, of course. Just another part of the illusion. Nothing to get excited about.'_

"If you want to examine your appearance, James, there's a mirror in the bottom-left drawer of my desk," the chief superintendent said as she started to remove her brown hair from its customary twist.

"You keep a _mirror _in your desk, Jean? And I thought _I _was vain!" Hathaway said as he walked over to the desk.

Innocent stopped fluffing her now-loose hair for a minute to look at Hathaway. "In our line of work, one never knows when one will need to make a press conference. It's always best to be prepared for anything."

Hathaway didn't argue; Innocent had a legitimate point. The sergeant continued to examine the contents of the drawer in question. He found the mirror right away and placed it on top of the desk. Then he noticed a very interesting-looking stack of papers inside the drawer. He picked one up and burst out laughing. Then he looked at a second and a third and found them equally amusing.

"Are these _love poems_, ma'am?"

"Yes," she admitted as she walked over to him, "I suppose they are. Don't ask me who they're from; I haven't the slightest idea. I find one slipped under my door every Thursday accompanied by three yellow daisies."

"So, an anonymous someone sends you flowers and poetry every week, and you're not at all disturbed by this?" he asked, shocked at Jean's blasé acceptance of the whole thing.

She shrugged. "Not really. I figure that anyone who sends daisies is fairly safe. If it were…say… _rose_s, I might be a touch concerned, but daisies are harmless."

"But why do you keep the poems?"

She attempted to grab the papers from James, but the sergeant simply held them out of her reach.

"Sometimes, when I'm having a really bad day—of the sort that _you _usually cause—I like to look at them. It reminds me that there's someone out there who actually _appreciates_ me."

"There are _plenty_ of people who appreciate you, Jean," Hathaway said, eventually taking pity on the much-shorter chief superintendent and handing her the papers. "We're just not all sending you poetry."

She started to put them away and then changed her mind.

"Perhaps we should leave one out for Lewis to find?"

"An excellent idea!" Hathaway grabbed the papers back and started flipping through them. "Might I recommend this one?" he said after he had found a poem that he liked.

Innocent nodded and set it on her desk before placing all of the other papers on their original location and slamming shut the desk drawer.

"Am I to presume that Mr. Innocent doesn't know about these poems?'"

"Mr. Innocent doesn't _have_ to know," Jean said.

"Oh, the jealous type—is he?" James nodded sympathetically.

"A veritable Othello."

"I suppose that I should probably watch my back then," Hathaway remarked.

"That probably wouldn't be a bad idea."

Hathaway grabbed the mirror off of Innocent's desk and carefully studied his reflection. With his tousled hair, loosened tie, and the smudged lipstick stain on his cheek, he certainly looked the part he was playing, as did Jean beside him.

"Well, what do you think, James?" Innocent said after Hathaway had finally set down the mirror. "Are you satisfied with my handiwork?"

He gave her his broadest grin, "You may be demanding, conceited, and a bloody tease, but _damn,_ Jean! You _are _super—and not just by profession!"

She blushed slightly. "Thank you for that. Now, we'd best get started."

_Just Outside Innocent's Office…_

Inspector Robbie Lewis was starting to get very anxious. He was supposed to be having his performance review right now, but Innocent still hadn't finished conferring with Hathaway.

At least, Robbie _assumed_ that they were actually conferring in the other room and not doing something entirely different. They had, after all, been in there a _very_ long time.

Lewis wondered absently whether Innocent was assessing James based on his work performance or well… Hathaway's _other_ performance. Robbie was quickly able to banish this thought; he knew Jean far too well to be taken in by this unsettling idea. Innocent would be fair if it killed her. Even if Hathaway was the most fantastic lover in history of the world, his affair with their boss would have no impact whatsoever on his scores.

Robbie tapped his foot impatiently as he continued to wait. He hoped that they'd hurry up in there. Lewis felt a slight tap on his shoulder and turned to see Dr. Hobson beside him.

"Don't tell me; let me guess. You've done something you oughtn't have done, and Innocent needs to lecture you about it. You haven't gone in yet, because you're a bit afraid of what she'll say," the pathologist remarked, studying Robbie in the same detached, analytical manner that she usually reserved for corpses.

"No, not exactly. At least, I don't _think_ that I've done anything wrong. No…er… today's performance reviews. Innocent's giving Hathaway his right now."

Lewis tried to reassure himself that this _was _indeed what was going on in there, but the glimmer of doubt still remained.

"Ah, I see. Oh, and speaking of James and Jean, did you ever solve the mystery of what was going on between them?"

"Yes, I…I…did."

Hobson raised her eyebrows interestedly. "Go on."

Robbie wondered if he should share what he had learned. He was starting to feel that if he didn't tell someone soon, he would gradually grow mad. Still, Robbie thought that this particular revelation might break Hobson's heart. He was still unsure of how strongly the pathologist felt about Hathaway. But he knew one thing. If Laura really did love James, then she needed the truth, regardless of how painful it might be. She would require comfort, of course—and Robbie was more than willing to provide that—but eventually she'd get over the sergeant and be able to move on with her life.

"Do you swear that you won't tell a soul?"

Hobson nodded somberly and crossed her heart. Lewis took a quick look around to ensure that no one was coming before speaking again.

"They're having an affair."

Hobson snorted. "Very funny, Robbie."

"I'm _serious_, Laura. She spent the night with him the day we went to the library. I heard them making plans about it while we were there."

" I'm sure that those 'plans' consisted of nothing more serious than a few drinks and some light conversation, after which Jean went straight home to her _husband._"

"The plans consisted of a bit more than that." Lewis checked once again to ensure that he and Laura were still alone. "He said that he was going to give her a _full-body _rub-down, Laura."

The pathologist still looked disturbingly unfazed. "So what if he did? I'm sure that Jean was completely dressed at the time. She was probably just feeling stressed, and James decided to soothe her tired muscles a bit with those long, elegant fingers of his," Hobson said. "I wonder if he'd do the same for me if I asked him nicely," she added as an afterthought.

Robbie ignored this last statement. "I don't think that _either _of them was fully-clothed. You should have heard the way that they were going on at the library. Hathaway even admitted that he'd already stolen things that belong to Mr. Innocent!"

"Maybe, he nicked a couple of brass candlesticks or something." She continued to stare at him in astonishment. "Robbie, you can't honestly tell me that you believe that they…"

"I don't _believe_ it, Laura; I _know_ it! I heard them at the library. And do you remember that silver heart pendant that Jean was wearing? Hathaway gave it to her as a birthday present. Bit of an expensive gift—_isn't it?"_

"Yes, it is, but he was _obviously _trying to suck-up."

Lewis was starting to get very angry at Laura. He had always found her to be a very open-minded person. Why was she acting so blind? Upon consideration, Lewis resolved that the pathologist was probably just jealous—jealous that Jean had already taken what Laura had wanted all along. Denying that any of this ever happened was probably just Hobson's way of coping.

"Well, he _obviously _succeeded. Laura, why do you keep denying all of the evidence? It's right under your nose. They slept together! Why can't you see it?"

"Because they _didn't _sleep together! I can't believe you, Robbie! You've become so obsessed with your job that you've started to create mysteries where there are none. This so-called evidence is nothing more than a few purely coincidental details that your overactive imagination has somehow managed to morph into a bloody soap opera!"

For a moment, Robbie wondered if Laura might be right, but then he cast this thought aside. He knew without a doubt that he had made a correct and thorough analysis. Besides, Hobson had no authority to speak on any of this. She hadn't heard and seen what Lewis had heard and seen. Laura hadn't heard the undisguised lust in Hathaway's and Innocent's voice as they talked in the library nor had the pathologist seen the tender way that James had stroked Jean's neck after giving her the necklace.

Robbie was about to remind Laura of this fact when the outer door of Innocent's finally opened. The slight scent of orchids met Lewis's nostrils.

Innocent. He was in for the lecture of his life if she had heard any of the conversation.

_'No, not Innocent,'_ he realized a second later._ 'Hathaway.'_

The normally-immaculate sergeant looked a fright. His tie was loose, his hair was messy, and there was a mysterious pink smudge on one of his cheeks. It took a moment for Lewis to recognize the smudge as lipstick. Well, that explained the floral scent at least. From the look of things, Hathaway and Innocent had been all over each other during their "conference."

Lewis shot a Hobson an '_I told you so_' look. The pathologist merely rolled her eyes.

"I still don't believe you, Robbie," Laura said before walking away.

Lewis returned his attention to his sergeant. "James? What's that on your cheek?"

"Nothing, sir," Hathaway said quickly, and he immediately began dabbing the lipstick off.

Robbie shot James another penetrating stare before walking through Innocent's outer door.

He moved past the empty desk of Innocent's secretary who was out with pneumonia. Lewis took a deep breath before opening the door to the chief super's main office.

As he walked toward Innocent, he noticed that she looked just as disoriented as Hathaway had. She was frantically trying to re-button her blouse, her unbound brown hair flying wildly about her face as she did so

"Doesn't anybody knock anymore?" she snapped.

"I'm sorry; I should have," Robbie said, respectfully averting his eyes. "Ma'am about your shirt…"

"It got a little…hot in here. I thought this might help me cool down a bit."

'A_ little hot? __**That's**__ an interesting way of putting it."_

"You do realize it's the middle of the winter—don't you, ma'am?"

"I have an over-active heater. I've been meaning to get it fixed."

Lewis nodded but he wasn't at all fooled. He knew that Innocent's current state of disarray was not the result of a broken heater. Besides, who did the chief super think that she was kidding? It wasn't warm in her office at all.

However, Lewis was determined to end this awkward conversation so upon seeing a sheet of paper on her Innocent's desk, he picked it up, assuming that it was his performance review. It turned out not to be an evaluation at all—or at least not Innocent's evaluation of _him_. No, it was someone else's evaluation of the chief superintendent in the form of a typed love poem.

_Though in our line of work, dangers are rife._

_I face them gladly for you each day of my life,_

_Despite the fact that I feel a sharp pain like a knife_

_When I think of you as another man's wife._

_ Radiant majesty of all you survey,_

_Let me confess to you my heart, if I may._

_You turn the dark night around us to eternal day_

_And your smile banishes from the sky any clouds of grey._

_ Though my love must remain ever silent and unseen,_

_I'll always worship at your temple, English Athene._

_Although the mountains may fall and Pisa's tower may careen,_

_My feelings for you will never alter, my love and my Jean._

The poem was unsigned, but Lewis suspected that he knew who had written it. Hathaway had once mentioned that he had taken a poetry-writing course at Cambridge, and the allusion to Greek mythology also seemed to suggest the sergeant as the most likely author.

_'So, James is writing love poetry—is he? Maybe things are a bit more serious between them than I thought."_

Innocent seemed to realize soon after Robbie finished reading that the inspector had picked up the wrong piece of paper. The chief super seized the poem from him and tossed it in a drawer of her desk.

"Lewis," she said as she gave him a very threatening stare. "You are _not_ to look through my personal papers again without first asking my permission. Are we clear?"

"As crystal." Robbie fought the temptation to ask her who the poem was from; he didn't want to make Innocent angrier at him than she already was.

After a brief silence, they resumed the performance review.


	7. Day Six

Day Six

James Hathaway slumped in his chair and attempted to figure out just what had gone wrong with his brilliant plan. Only a few days ago, everything had seemed to be working out perfectly, but that had soon changed.

With less than two days left of his fake affair with Innocent, Hathaway knew that he had to come up with something really exceptional soon if he wanted to win the bet. Yet, he was starting to wonder if winning was really worth the trouble—and whether he'd be able to last another day-and-a-half.

For the past two days, Lewis had been giving his sergeant the cold shoulder. That in itself wasn't exactly unusual; this was hardly the first dispute the pair had been forced to work through. But it was definitely the worst conflict that they'd experienced in a long time. Lewis focused solely on his work, speaking to James only about the case and giving his sergeant the occasional glower of total revulsion.

James couldn't exactly blame Lewis for behaving as he did; the sergeant knew that he himself would have been just as angry if his own and Robbie's positions had been reversed. But it was still extraordinarily painful to feel estranged from one of the few friends that he had.

Part of Hathaway was tempted to go to Innocent right now and tell her that he'd given up. But this was only a very small part of him.

Although, it _would _be much easier and much less painful to simply end the experiment prematurely. Doing so would certainly patch up Hathaway's relationship with Lewis—_and_ likelywith the chief superintendent as well. If James made that speech for Innocent, she might actually forgive him someday for the "full-body massage."

But, Hathaway still wanted to _win_. He still wanted his day of sick leave, still needed to know whether or not Jean Innocent was capable of hitting an F-sharp, still required valid proof that his idea hadn't been so terrible after all.

After a long day of contemplation, James eventually resolved to simply swallow his pride and accept defeat. He rose from his seat and was halfway to the door when Lewis finally spoke.

"Where are you going?"

"I've a quick question for the chief super."

Robbie immediately walked over to the door and blocked James's path. "Can't it wait?"

"I…er…"

"That's what I thought," Lewis said crossly. "Jean Innocent is a very busy woman; the last thing she needs right now is you diverting her from her work."

"Surely, I'm not _that_ distracting."

Lewis gave a cold laugh. "Oh, drop the pretense already, James! You and I both know that you're a bit more than a mere 'distraction' where Jean Innocent is concerned."

The sergeant let out a melancholy sigh. Three days ago, James would have viewed such an outburst with enthusiasm—as it suggested that his experiment was working. Today, however, this was the absolute last conversation he felt like having.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," Hathaway said tiredly.

"Tell me, James, is she really _so _'super' in bed that you can think of nothing else?"

"Sir!"

"Well, she's obviously got some sort of hold on you. You seem to have completely lost sight of what's important in life. What about your career, James—isn't _that_ important? And what of your _morals_? Aren't _they_ important as well?

"Sir?"

"You studied at a bloody _seminary, _James_;_ you were going to be a priest at one time in your life! You of _all _people should be above adultery!"

"Sir… if you'll please just let me explain…"

"I don't _want_ your explanations anymore, sergeant!" Lewis railed. Then, he paused. When Robbie finally spoke again, his voice was quieter and slower, and his tone shifted from irate to wounded. Lewis's total alteration in demeanour proved even more agonizing to Hathaway than the inspector's shouting had been.

"You're not the man I thought you were. I always assumed that you were different, James_—_that _you _thought with your brain and not with… _other_ parts of your anatomy. And it tears me up inside to see just how wrong I was about you."

"Sir, I think I had better go. You're obviously having a long and somewhat confusing day…"

"Am I, James? _Am I_?" Lewis's bitterness returned immediately, and the inspector all-but-spat in his contempt.

James Hathaway silently prayed that he would never again see DI Robbie Lewis look quite so livid. Even the inspector's fury at his sergeant's dishonesty on the Will McEwan case paled in comparison to this display of rage. Lewis's normally-gentle eyes now blazed with a foreign and almost savage hostility. Robbie was also firmly gritting his teeth and was shaking slightly—as though he was trying very hard to restrain himself.

"I think you are, sir," the sergeant remarked quietly. "Now if you'll just let me by so that I can go speak to Innocent…"

"Fine, then!" Lewis interjected, moving away from the door and throwing up his arms in total surrender. "Go to her. I may not _approve_, but heaven help me if I try to stand in your way! God forbid! I can't _believe_ I actually tried to convince the two of you to do the right thing," Robbie said disgustedly, letting out a false gasp of horror at his actions. "I guess I'll just have to—I don't know—_arrest _myself for ruining everyone's happiness? It's clear to me now that I've committed a crime worse than murder."

James looked at the inspector pleadingly, mentally begging Lewis to stop but Robbie continued his tirade.

"Well, I'm not your _father_—am I, James? You're a grown man, and I don't have the authority to tell you what to do. So, _go ahead_. Snog Jean's bloody face off, or _better_ still, give her another of your stupid full-body massages_._ I couldn't care l_ess_! Just be _discreet_ about it for pity's sake! I've already had to clean up enough several of your messes for you, and I'm starting to get very tired of doing so."

Hathaway reached for the doorknob. "Are you done, sir? Because if you are, I think I'll leave now."

"Yes, James. I am. I just wanted to say one final thing. And you'd do well to remember it. One of these days, Jean's going to tire of you, and when she does, she'll leave you in the dust. And at the end of the day, you'll have nothing to show for it except a broken heart, a damaged career, and the stain of adultery on your very _soul_!"

Even in his great distress, Hathaway felt a reassuring idea slowly formulating in his mind. "What did you say?"

"I said, someday, Jean Innocent is going to break your bloody heart!"

That was it! The ideal solution. Ending the affair did not necessarily have to mean ending the deception.

But why wait until "someday" for Innocent to "break his heart?" Why not, say, _tomorrow_ instead? And why not in a place where he and Innocent would be sure to be overheard? Hathaway was sure that he could find a way to weave Robbie and Laura into a "break-up" scene. And maybe—just _maybe_—this would give Lewis and Hobson the final push that they needed.

"I really need to go," James said finally, pushing past Robbie and opening the door.

Trying not to think about the fight he'd just had with Lewis, the sergeant kept walking until he reached the door of Innocent's inner office. He knocked and waited patiently for Jean's response.

"Come in," Innocent said after a moment, and Hathaway did so.

The chief super looked up from the massive pile of paperwork on her desk and rubbed her forehead in frustration upon noticing Hathaway. "Can't this wait, James? I'm very busy right now."

"It's…it's sort of important, ma'am."

"Very well, then." Innocent gestured for Hathaway to sit in the chair directly across from her.

The sergeant took his seat and began nervously drumming his fingers on the top of the desk as he tried to think of how to put this. Innocent clearly noticed his distractedness.

"I don't mean to pry, but …are you feeling alright, James?"

"I…er…it's nothing, ma'am."

"Forgive me for not believing that." Innocent cleared her throat and studied him perceptively from across the desk. "You look as though you've just lost your best friend."

"For all I know, I may have," Hathaway muttered under his breath. Then, he spoke up. "It's Inspector Lewis."

Her eyes widened with concern. "What happened?"

"Well, we've …we've had a bit of a row—and when I say 'a bit' of a row, please know that I mean it as an understatement."

Jean gasped slightly. "Oh, James. Was it about…?"

Hathaway nodded. "Yes, ma'am, it was about you." He corrected himself. "About _us,_" James said somberly as he leaned back in his chair.

"What did he say to get you so upset?"

"Well, it was just what you'd expect really: he questioned our motives, advised caution and warned us that we'd regret our actions. But it wasn't anything Lewis _said_ that really got to me. It was… God…it was the way he looked at me. Even though I know that I haven't done anything wrong, I still feel as though I've betrayed him. I just feel…"

"You feel guilty of a crime that you haven't committed."

He looked at her, amazed at how perfectly she had been able to express his current state. "That's exactly it. How did you…?"

"Because it's just the way that _I _feel." Innocent rose from her seat and walked away from Hathaway, keeping her back to him. "_Don't _think that I've missed the judgmental stares Lewis has been sending in my direction the past couple of days; I haven't missed a single one of those stares. I'm… I'm almost starting to feel that I deserve them."

Hathaway took a deep breath before speaking again. "So, it's fair to say that you wish you'd never entered into this?"

She turned and faced him. "One might say that. You?"

"Definitely," he admitted, smiling wryly.

"We could end this right now. As neither of us technically won the bet, neither of us will have to pay up."

"Is that what you want? To be free of this? "

Innocent shrugged. "It's not my decision to make. This was after all your…"

"…Idea in the first place. Yes, it was. My stupid, impulsive idea into which I dove headfirst without first stopping to consider the consequences."

She walked over to stand beside him, placing one of her hands on top of one of Hathaway's. "We're in this together, James. I'm just as culpable as you are."

He pulled his hand away. "No, you're not, Jean," he said finally. "The fault is entirely my own; I shouldn't have pressured you into this."

She propped herself up to sit on top of the desk. "I made my own choice. I wanted to give one final performance—wanted to see how much of the great Eva Peroñ was still in me. It was stupid, egotistical move that I now regret."

For a moment, Jean Innocent looked so small and forlorn that Hathaway found himself fighting a strong temptation to throw his arms around her. But he knew that the chief superintendent probably wouldn't take kindly to that. Instead, James contented himself with words of comfort rather than gestures.

"So _what_ if you let your vanity get the better of you? That's perfectly alright. It happens to the very best of us."

_'It happens to me far more frequently than I feel comfortable admitting.'_

Innocent sighed and glanced away again. "It's still no excuse."

They sat in silence for a time. Finally, James spoke again.

"So, I take it that you think we should end this completely?"

"I do," Jean confessed. "But I think that I could last another day if you need me to. As I said before, it's not my choice to make. It's what _you _think that matters now."

She looked over at him expectantly.

"I agree that we need to end the affair. However, I don't think it's necessary to call the _whole_ thing off."

She raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

After a moment's hesitation, James Hathaway started to explain the final stage of his plan.


	8. Day Seven

**Note: This chapter owes an especial debt of gratitude to Andrew Lloyd Webber and Cole Porter as I have manipulated both of their lyrics into my story.**

Day Seven

Despite Lewis's repeated insistence that Hathaway and Innocent were lovers, Dr. Laura Hobson obstinately refused to believe it. _James and Jean_? Was Robbie daft? The idea was ludicrous! There was the age difference to consider—and the fact that the pair of them were so completely unsuited to each other.

_'Still, love is blind,'_ said the very small part of Hobson's brain that was open to Lewis's interpretation. _'You never expected to fall in love with Robbie, awkward and scruffy as he is—__**did**__ you, Laura?"_

_ 'No, I didn't,' _Hobson admitted to herself_. 'But that is not the same.'_

_ 'Isn't it?' _the voice in Laura's head asked.

The pathologist thought about this for a moment. Hathaway and Innocent obviously cared very much about each other's well-being, but surely that was just in a highly professional supervisor-to-valued employee way. James and Jean also seemed to butt heads quite frequently, but there was nothing remotely sexual about their tension. _Was there?_

Of course, there wasn't. And even if there _was_, neither of them would act upon it. They were both far too smart to risk jeopardizing their careers in this manner.

That was what Laura kept telling herself whenever the image of a disheveled Hathaway, his cheek stained with pink lipstick, popped up in her mind's eye. Hobson was sure that there was an innocent—no pun intended—explanation for what she had seen two days ago.

And yet, part of her doubted her own common sense—part of her required concrete evidence that Robbie was wrong.

So, Laura had spent most of today in Lewis's office, keeping an especially close eye on James. Based on what she had observed so far, there was no possible way that the sergeant could be involved in an illicit liaison with his female superior officer. Hathaway was his normal self—alternately devoting himself to his work and joking around with Hobson. Today, James seemed particularly keen on teasing the pathologist mercilessly about her newest accessory, a somewhat outrageous handbag made of iridescent magenta silk.

"You're not in the Fourth Form anymore, Laura. Grown women are supposed to have formal handbags in _muted_ colours—like grey or black or tan."

Hobson laughed. "Oh, I take you think I should get one of those 'old lady satchels' like the one that Innocent has?"

"The chief super's purse is not an 'old lady satchel.' It's a very nice _professional_ handbag."

"Oh, come on James! Not even someone as fashion-impaired as you can deny that it's somewhat…frumpy."

"_Nothing_ about Jean Innocent is even remotely frumpy," Hathaway said vehemently. "And that includes her handbag."

Laura glanced at him, wondering why James was so quick to defend Innocent. Could it be that…?

No, it _couldn't_ be. Why was she even allowing herself to consider that possibility?

"What do you think, Robbie?" Laura asked, walking over to the inspector who had yet to comment on the purse. "Is my handbag really _that _unprofessional?"

Lewis briefly looked up from his work. "No, Laura. It's fine."

Hathaway stared at the inspector questioningly. "I never thought of you as an authority on female accessories, sir."

"I'm not one, and I don't pretend to be. I'm just offering my honest opinion. I feel that this world could use a little more integrity—don't you, sergeant?" Lewis remarked, giving James a very piercing stare as he did so. It was clear that Lewis was no longer speaking only of women's fashions.

Obviously uncomfortable with this line of questioning, Hathaway quickly changed the subject.

"So Laura, have you given any more thought to what we talked about the other day?"

"I…I have. While I'd love to join your group, James, I'm not really sure that there's room for a clarinetist in a band that primarily plays Renaissance madrigals."

"Ah, but you're missing the whole point, Laura. We won't be primarily playing Renaissance madrigals _anymore_. The reason that we're talking to other musicians about this is that we're hoping to branch out more in terms of style—to add some variety to our repertoire."

"I suppose that I could talk to the conductor of my own group about adjusting my rehearsal schedule so that I can practice with your band as well."

"Excellent! Thank you, Laura," Hathaway said, smiling gratefully at her.

Hobson smiled back at the sergeant. "Anytime, James."

"Oh—and another thing. I was wondering if you might be able to find us some other people who might be interested in joining as well. We're particularly interested in vocalists."

"In that case, why don't you talk to Innocent? She studied musical theatre in college for a few years before she finally decided to go into law enforcement."

Lewis suddenly regained interest in his companions' conversation. Hobson was unsurprised—if a bit disappointed. It appeared that all it took was the mere mention of Jean Innocent's name to attract Lewis's full attention.

"You're surelyjoking, Laura!" Robbie said as he walked over to Hobson and Hathaway.

"No, I'm deadly serious. I've even heard her perform a few times. Believe it or not, the chief super likes to sing in her office after hours some nights—when she _thinks_ no one is listening."

"Is she any good?" Hathaway asked.

As much as Laura hated to grant Innocent any compliment, the chief superintendent's talent really was undeniable.

"Good is an understatement," Hobson admitted reluctantly.

"But of course, you already _knew_ that—didn't you, James?" Lewis interjected. "Seeing as you and Jean have already 'made sweet music together' by all accounts."

A series of disturbing thoughts again flashed through Laura's head. It couldn't be! And yet—why wasn't James denying it?

Hobson stared intensely at Hathaway, attempting to discern the truth from his face, but the sergeant remained just as enigmatic as ever.

Suddenly, the door opened, and the chief superintendent walked into the room.

"Jean! We were just talking about you."

Innocent ignored this comment "I must speak with you, James—immediately and privately. It's…it's rather important."

"Anything you need to say to Hathaway you can say in front of us, ma'am," Lewis said, standing protectively in front of James."

"I'm sorry, Robbie. But this _really _is highly confidential," Jean said brusquely, grabbing Hathaway by the arm and pulling him out of the room.

Lewis turned his attention to Hobson. "'Rather important' _and '_highly confidential.' Does she really expect us to ignore _that_?"

Laura shrugged. "Who knows? But I agree about the need to follow them."

Surprisingly, James and Jean didn't go to Innocent's office. The two kept walking until they were outside the building, finally stopping when they had reached the center of the car park. Robbie and Laura, meanwhile, followed at a safe distance, eventually darting behind a black Rolls-Royce that was far enough away from Hathaway and Innocent. The inspector and pathologist knelt down behind the vehicle so that they would be well-hidden during their eavesdropping. Eventually, their curiosity got the better of them and they carefully peered over the car to observe what was going on.

As Jean shivered slightly in the icy wind, James took off his suit jacket and carefully wrapped it around the chief superintendent's shoulders.

"God above, Jean!" The sergeant said, taking both of Innocent's bare hands and rubbing them between his own. "Sometimes I swear that you're going to be the death of me. Running outside in this sort of weather without a coat or gloves! What were you thinking?"

Robbie seemed to be wondering the same thing. The inspector removed his own suit jacket and handed it to Hobson, who placed it on overtop of her sweater. Then he undid his tie and passed that on as well.

"You can wrap this around your hands. It's not much, but it should keep them slightly warmer," Lewis whispered softly in Laura's ear.

The pathologist smiled, genuinely grateful at Robbie's generosity. However, she wished that Robbie cared enough to warm her hands the way that Hathaway was currently warming Innocent's.

"I thought this was safer, James. We're far less likely to be overheard out here," the chief superintendent said, darting her head around quickly to ensure that they were alone.

Robbie and Laura briefly ducked down to avoid Innocent's gaze before peering over the Rolls Royce again

Hathaway shook his head at her disapprovingly. "That's true enough, but it's below freezing! Are you _mad_?"

"Quite possibly."

"I don't doubt it. But don't worry, Jean. Your slight insanity only makes you all the more loveable."

Hobson shook herself. Clearly, her ears had betrayed her.

The sergeant continued speaking. "So, what exactly do we need to talk about?"

Innocent took a deep breath and then pulled her hands away from Hathaway's. "I can't do this anymore."

"You're right. It's too bloody cold out here. Let's talk inside."

"That's not what I meant. I can't do _this _anymore," Innocent said, gesturing vaguely at her companion. Seeing that the sergeant still looked confused, she clarified. "I mean _us, _James; I can't continue to see you." She paused and looked away guiltily. "I'm sorry."

At first, Hathaway seemed completely lost for words. Then, he spoke again, his tone instantly turning vitriolic. "It's because of Lewis—isn't it?"

"James, I…"

"You _fancy_ him—don't you?" the sergeant accused, his jealousy clearly evident. "Laura said once that she thought you might, but I never would have believed it!

"James, please just listen to me!"  
"You're wasting your time pining after Robbie, Jean! He's in love with Dr. Hobson though he hasn't the balls to tell her."

Laura diverted her attention away from the scene for a moment to glace at Robbie. Could it really be true? Of all people, Hathaway would be the most likely to know.

But James had his own agenda to consider right now—didn't he? If the sergeant was really as infatuated with his chief superintendent as Hobson was finally starting to believe, then it stood to reason that Hathaway would say just about anything in order to eliminate a possible rival for Jean's heart.

"It's not Robbie," Innocent insisted.

"Then, tell me what it is!" Hathaway demanded angrily.

"It's bloody _everything!" _the chief superintendent shouted._ "_Do you realize how many rules we've broken? Policy strictly forbids any romantic involvement between officers of differing rank. This could cost both of us our jobs—not to mention our reputations! And there's more than that. I have a husband, James."

"A husband who's never there for you."

"But he's still my _husband_. I still have an obligation towards him."

"He doesn't love you, Jean; I _do_. Why are you making this so complicated? You deserve to be with someone who wants to be with you." Hathaway gently placed a hand on Innocent's face. "And I want that more than anything in the world."

She removed his hand and turned her back to him. "But you're so…so wrong for me, James. It's not just the rank difference—that's just the tip of the iceberg. You're too young…too unpredictable…too impulsive…too-"

"I know what you're doing, Jean. You're deliberately putting up barriers between us."

"The barriers are putting up themselves! Even if they weren't, _why_ would I place them?"

Hathaway grabbed Innocent by the shoulders and reeled her around to face him. "I'll tell you, Jean—though I expect you'll refuse to believe it. You feel something for me—something other than mere lust. You feel something, and it scares the hell out of you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the chief superintendent said, taking a step away from James.

He followed her lead. "Oh, I think that you _do. _You've spent your whole life repressing your emotions—trying to manage your heart the way that you manage the officers who work in that building," Hathaway said, pointing at the station as Innocent scoffed disbelievingly. "One day, you decide to allow yourself a brief moment of sheer impulsivity. And suddenly nothing is the same. You find yourself overwhelmed by emotions that you are unsure of how to cope with—so you attempt to push them away. But that's the thing about love; you _can't_ control it—regardless of how hard you may try to." He paused and reached for her hands again. She let him hold them for a minute before pulling away. Then, James continued speaking.

"Though you may deny their existence, your feelings will just continue to resurface, and each time they do, they'll grow more and more powerful. So, stop trying to control your heart and just _let_ yourself love me, Jean!"

"No, I can't. _We _can't."

He took another step toward her. "Yes, we can."

"Face reality, James. This was fun while it lasted, but we can't honestly have expected anything serious to come of it."

"Why do you persist on feigning an indifference that we both know you don't feel? God, you're no better than Laura-bloody-Hobson!"

From behind the Rolls Royce, the pathologist flinched at the sound of her name. She ducked down again, wondering if the sergeant had seen her.

"Dr. Hobson? What of her?" Innocent asked.

"She's in love with Inspector Lewis, but she acts as though she isn't whenever she's in his presence."

"I…I had no idea. Are you…are you sure?"

"Laura told me so herself. Phoned me up one night when she was half-drunk and spilled the whole story. Apparently she's loved him from afar for years but has never been able to tell him."

Hobson momentarily fought the temptation to go over and strangle James Hathaway. How dare he! Hathaway had pledged his eternal silence on the matter, and he now had the audacity to share Laura's deepest secret with the very woman whose existence prevented the pathologist's dreams from coming true.

Laura felt a poke at her side. She turned her head slightly and saw that Robbie was gaping at her. Hobson had been so engrossed in Hathaway and Innocent's bizarre love scene that she had almost forgotten that she was not the only one listening in the conversation. Although James and Jean continued speaking, neither Robbie nor Laura heard them.

"Laura, is this true?"

The pathologist instinctively knew that there was no point in denying her feelings any longer. "Yes, Robbie, it is. You're free to laugh—or …or _whatever_. Just don't let this alter our current friendship."

"I'm afraid it's already done that," the inspector said carefully.

"But it doesn't have to!" Hobson pleaded. "Look, I accept the fact that you'll never love me the way that you loved Val—or even lust after me the way you lust after Jean. But _don't_ push me away completely! I won't bother you with this again; I swear it."

"Laura, I don't think we can be friends anymore."

Hobson felt tears welling up in her eyes. She had known that this day would eventually come, but that didn't make Robbie's rejection any less painful. She continued speaking—on the slim chance that she might be able to persuade Lewis to change his mind.

"I understand that you're probably feeling awkward and confused right now. But can we try to work through this? I'm…I'm not sure how I can possibly live without you in my life, Robbie Lewis."

He gave her a very odd look. "Laura… when I said that we couldn't be friends anymore, I didn't mean that I was going to shut you out of my life."

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

"I only meant that I don't think we can be _only _friends anymore.

Hobson felt her heart skip a beat. "What are you saying, Robbie?"

"Do I _really _have to spell it out? I don't want to be your friend, Laura; I want to be your _boyfriend._"

"So what Hathaway was saying earlier…about your being in love with me—that was all true?"

Lewis nodded. "Yes—though I'm still not sure of how James figured it out."

"Simple. If Hathaway's been spending all of his nights with the chief super, it stands to reason that some of Innocent's freaky omniscient powers would have rubbed off on him."

Robbie threw back his head and laughed deeply. Then he cleared his throat nervously and spoke. "So…just to make sure that I'm not misinterpreting anything…will you…will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

For a moment, Laura merely stared at him incredulously. Then, she acted purely on impulse, placing her arms in a loose hold around the inspector's shoulders and kissing Robbie Lewis full on the lips.

After what simultaneously felt like a millisecond and a glorious eternity, they broke apart.

"Am I to take it that means 'yes,' then?" Robbie said, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"You _are_ a good detective, Inspector Lewis."

"_Robbie_," he corrected. "Where you're concerned, I'm always Robbie."

"And _I'm_ Laura—unless there's a dead body around. Then, I become 'Dr. Hobson' faster than you can blink."

Lewis's eyes lit up mischievously. "I don't see any dead bodies currently—do you?"

Hobson quickly and methodically peered over the car to check her surroundings. "No. I only see a chief superintendent with a horrible taste in handbags, a detective sergeant with horrible taste in women, a midnight Rolls-Royce and… well, you. Not a single corpse in sight."

"Then, _get_ over here and let me kiss you again…Laura!"

The pathologist was only too happy to oblige. Hobson and Lewis soon found themselves so wrapped up in each other that they failed to notice the "chief superintendent with horrible taste in handbags" and the " detective sergeant with horrible taste in women" walk over to the black Rolls-Royce in order to better observe the very real love scene that their false on had created.

_Twenty-Five Minutes Later_

"I've already signed off on your extra day of sick leave, James. So if you're here to gloat, I recommend that you leave immediately; I'm simply not in the mood to put up with you."

Hathaway closed the inner door of Innocent's office and walked over to the chief super's desk. "I'm _not_ here to gloat, ma'am."

"I don't believe you. Why else would you have come?" A thought suddenly occurred to Jean. She looked at Hathaway uncomfortably for a minute. "Er… James, Inspector Lewis hasn't tried to banish you from your own office—_has_ he?"

The sergeant chuckled. "Not officially. But I'm sure that he and Dr. Hobson are taking full advantage of my absence."

"Then, why exactly are you here?"

"Well, it's two things, really."

"And the first thing is?"

"This is for you," Hathaway said, shoving a piece of paper into Innocent's hands.

The chief superintendent glanced down at the paper for a moment. Then she returned her attention to Hathaway. "But, James, this is…"

"The speech you wanted me to deliver to the police academy? I know it is, ma'am."

"But…but why?"

The sergeant took a seat in the chair directly opposite Innocent. "I wrote it last night—just in case I happened to lose the bet. And this morning, I sort of decided to make the speech, regardless of what happened today."

"You don't have do this, James. We had an agreement, and you won fair and square."

"After all the drama that I've put you through, I feel that I owe you something."

"Still, I'm fairly sure that I can get someone to do it. I was thinking of asking Sergeant Kershaw anyway."

"No, I _want_ to do it. Besides," Hathaway smirked slightly, "you and I both know that Adrian's just a mediocre facsimile of me."

"A 'mediocre facsimile' of you? Just between us, James, Adrian Kershaw received a 'great' on his performance review—while _you _couldn't even manage a 'good!'"

"That's only because—in addition to being my intellectual inferior—Adrian Kershaw is the biggest bloody sycophant this side of Oxford!"

She leaned back in her chair and studied him curiously. "I was always under the impression that you and Adrian got along, James."

"We _do_; we're good friends. Kershaw's an excellent guy, but that doesn't make him any less of an obsequious little toady."

"But he's still 'an obsequious little toady' who beat the great James Hathaway on performance reviews," Innocent pointed out.

Hathaway groaned. "You just _have _to rub it in—don't you, Jean?"

"Are you at all surprised?"

"Not really. I suppose I have been a bit of a prat to you all week."

"A _bit_ of a prat?" Innocent questioned, raising an eyebrow at Hathaway.

"Yes, ma'am. Only a bit of one," he said with a completely straight face.

Innocent rolled her eyes disgustedly. "Whatever you say, James. Anyway, you said earlier that there were two reasons you needed to see me. What's the second reason?"

"Yes, I came to see if you might be interested in having a drink with me tonight." Seeing her concerned expression, he clarified. "Just as casual acquaintances, naturally."

" Naturally. But why, James?"

Hathaway struggled to put his feelings into words. In the past week, he had realized that he enjoyed Jean's company and that he'd miss the extra time that they'd spent together—not that he would ever admit it. It was one thing to be both friends and colleagues with Lewis, but Innocent was an entirely different story. The sergeant was sure that the chief superintendent viewed their own relationship as strictly professional—if slightly mocking and flirtatious.

"It's just… I… I thought it might be fun to send the affair off in style," James said finally.

"One last hurrah before everything goes back to normal?"

"Exactly. Well, what do you say, Jean?"

"As tempting as your offer is, I'm afraid that I'll have to decline. My husband leaves for an extended trip to London tomorrow and…"

"Say no more, ma'am; I understand. We wouldn't want Mr. Innocent to get the wrong impression now—would we?"

"No, we would not," Jean said. "'Oh, but it's sad when a love affair dies, but we have pretended enough.'"

Hathaway stared at her blankly, unsure of why this sounded so familiar.

"_Evita,_ James, _Evita__**.**_"

"It _would_ be," the sergeant muttered under his breath before rising from his seat. "I suppose I had better let you get back to work." James walked over to the door before Innocent's voice stopped him.

"Wait! Aren't you forgetting something?"

He turned around, initially unsure of what she was referring to. Then he met her gaze and suddenly everything came back to him: the stakes of the bet, his victory, _Evita_. Hathaway jerked his head slightly to indicate his understanding. Then, Jean Innocent rose from her own chair and started to sing in a clear, rich voice that shocked James Hathaway to the core.

"_I get no kick from champagne_

_Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all_

_So tell me- why should it be true_

_That I get a kick out of you?_

_Some like the bopped-up refrain._

_I'm sure that if I heard even one riff,_

_That would bore me terrifically too_

_Yet I get a kick out of you._

_I get a kick every time I see you, standing there before me._

_I get a kick, though it's clear to me you obviously don't adore me._

_I get no kick in a plane._

_Flying too high with some guy in the sky_

_Is my idea of nothing to do._

_Yet, I get a kick out of you_".

When she had finished, Hathaway burst into applause. "Brilliant, Jean! Absolutely brilliant."

She looked at him skeptically. "Do you _really_ think so—or are you just flattering an old woman?"

"I've never been more serious in my life—and you're not _old _at all, by the way."

"Tell that to my hairdresser."

He continued to stare at her in dazed astonishment. Eventually, it got so that Innocent could no longer stand it.

"Aren't you going to return to work?"

Hathaway instantly snapped out of his reverie. "Oh…er…yes, ma'am." The sergeant reached for the door handle and then looked back at his chief superintendent.

" Oh, and just for the record, Jean, I get a 'kick out of you' too," he said before shutting the door on his false affair once and for all.


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue (Day Eight)

DI Robbie Lewis paced anxiously around the office the following afternoon. His date with Dr. Hobson was in only a few hours, and Lewis was very excited—albeit somewhat nervous—about it.

"Could you please stop that, sir? It's very distracting; you're ruining my concentration," Hathaway said from his desk.

Robbie stopped his pacing and turned to look at James, wondering to himself if the sergeant's current bad mood could be traced to Innocent ending their affair. Based on what Robbie had observed, it seemed that Hathaway's feelings for the chief superintendent had run much deeper than Lewis had initially suspected.

Still, James had to see that this was for best. How long had Hathaway really expected the affair to last? It would have been only a matter of time before he and Jean would have gotten caught, and the penalties for their folly would have been brutal.

"I'm sorry, James," Lewis said, walking over to his sergeant's desk. "How's the report coming along?"

"Alright, I guess. Though, I _was_ a bit disappointed to learn that Madsen's killer was the bitter ex-girlfriend. I was so sure that some dark family secret had prompted the murder."

"I know. All of that time that we spend researching Tchaikovsky in the library was for absolutely nothing."

Hathaway looked at Lewis very strangely for a moment, and the inspector quickly realized his mistake. How could he have been so insensitive as to mention the library? The place was surely connected in James's mind with all sorts of painful memories: silver heart pendants, full-body massages, and Jean Innocent.

"Tchaikovsky wasn't the only red herring in the library," Hathaway muttered quietly.

Lewis stared in confusion at the sergeant. "What do you mean?"

James took a deep breath. "Sir, I have something to confess."

"Go on, then."

"I'm not in love with Innocent, and she's_ certainly_ not in love with me. That conversation you overheard between me and the chief super yesterday… well, we…we meant for you to overhear it."

"But why? Were you trying to scare me into an early retirement so that you could take my job?"

Hathaway's eyes widened in horror. "Good God, no! How ambitious do you think I am?"

"Ambitious enough to sleep with your boss, surely." Lewis suggested.

"For your information, Jean and I _didn't_ sleep together—nor do we have any intention of doing so in the future. We staged the conversation in the library as well. In fact, we faked an entire affair for your benefit."

"For _my _benefit?"

"Yes, sir. We thought that this might encourage you and Dr. Hobson to admit your feelings for each other."

Robbie gawked at the sergeant. "What?"

"Be honest, sir. Have you ever viewed me as an obstacle to your relationship with Laura?"

"Yes," Lewis admitted.

"Well, there you go. Hobson and I have never felt any real attraction to each other, but you've perceived our light flirtation as something far more serious."

"So, you thought that if you made it clear that you were interested in someone else, all barriers between Laura and meself would be removed?"

Hathaway nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I see," Lewis said cryptically. "But I still don't see why you would choose the chief super for this experiment. Surely, there were much safer prospects."

"Of course, there were, but it _had_ to be Jean."

"Why?"

Hathaway looked at Robbie as though he was an imbecile. "You really _don't _know—do you?"

"Obviously not."

"It's because Hobson thinks that you fancy Innocent."

"She does?" Lewis said, his jaw dropping in shock.

"Yes. You can't exactly blame Laura for thinking that. You have on occasion escorted the chief superintendent to events from time to time."

"_Only_ when Mr. Innocent is unavailable," Robbie reminded him.

"I know, but the fact that half of the men on the force want to bed Innocent doesn't exactly help your case much."

"But _I've _never wanted that," Lewis insisted. "Wait! Hang on a minute!" He continued as a new thought came to him. "'Half the men on the force want to bed Innocent.' You're not including yourself in that group—_are you_?"

Hathaway turned faintly pink. "I…er…of course not."

"I don't think I believe you," Lewis said, slightly amused at Hathaway's flustered demeanour.

" Oh, _alright_, I'll admit that Jean's lectures sometimes turn me on a bit, and I have had the occasional dream—but believe me, sir, I'm not about to do anything drastic."

"Please tell me that none of these dreams involved full-body rub-downs."

"No, they did not. I actually borrowed that particular idea from Sergeant Kershaw. You wouldn't believe the fantasies that _he's_ had about Innocent; 'erotic' doesn't even _begin_ to describe them."

An awkward silence overtook them. Finally, Lewis had the courage to end it.

"So you're saying that nothing happened between you and the chief super during your performance review?"

"Nothing of consequence. Innocent sprayed me with a bit of perfume and kissed me on the cheek. Then, we both just tried to make ourselves look as disoriented as possible, figuring that your imagination would do the rest for us."

Lewis considered this for a minute before speaking again. "What about the necklace?"

"A present to Jean from Mr. Innocent."

"And the poem?"

"Believe it or not, I didn't send it. And neither Jean nor I have the foggiest idea who did."

Suddenly a memory resurged in Lewis's mind. He suddenly remembered spilling a cup of coffee this morning on a book Inspector Kenneth was reading. The title of the book in question was _British and American Romantic Poetry of the Nineteenth Century._ Could shy, stuttering Kenneth be Innocent's secret admirer?

"Sir, I'm really sorry about…all this. Are you still angry?" Hathaway said carefully.

"Of_ course_, I'm angry! I hope that the two of you realize the enormous risk that you took with only the slim chance of a payoff. However…" Lewis paused. "However, I've decided to forgive you both. Yes, you acted like bloody idjits, but at least, your motives were noble."

"Thank you so much, sir."

Lewis brushed off the thanks. "Actually, I think the person that I'm most angry at is meself. How could I have ever been stupid enough to believe that Innocent would let you give her a full-body massage—even if she really _was_ madly in love with you?"

Hathaway looked affronted. "How would you know? She might've. I give _fantastic_ back-rubs. I'd be happy to give you a demonstration, if you like."

"I think I'll have to pass, but thanks for the offer."

Hathaway grinned. "You don't know what you're missing, sir."

"Perhaps some other time."

"In the meantime, I suppose I'll have to settle for exchanging massages with Karen."

Lewis stared at the sergeant in bewilderment. "Karen who?"

"You remember—Lyn's friend? The long-legged masseuse?"

"Oh, _that_ Karen."

Hathaway nodded. "Yes, I've decided to give redheads a try—just to see what I'm missing."

"Oh, I doubt you're missing much," Lewis said quickly.

"What do you mean?"

"I…er…it's just now that I think on it, you and Karen probably wouldn't make a very good couple."

"Why not?"

Lewis decided to give an honest reply. "There's the little problem of her existence_."_

_ "_You made her up," Hathaway said, instantly comprehending.

"I had to say _something _to dissuade you from Innocent," Lewis defended himself.

Hathaway looked amused—if somewhat surprised. "Inspector, you are far more devious than I ever would have given you credit for."

"Ditto, sergeant. Ditto."

The two considered each other for a moment, and then simultaneously burst into laughter.

The End

**Thank you again to all who have read and/or reviewed. I really appreciate it. And now, I'm going to do a little "happy dance," because this is the first fanfiction that I've actually completed (excluding one-shots, of course).**


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